


maladapt and misfire

by kisscollide



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu makes Sakusa's brain malfunction, Fluff, M/M, Post-Time Skip, i am weak for fluffy domestic sakuatsu, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisscollide/pseuds/kisscollide
Summary: Miya Atsumu gave Sakusa Kiyoomi sensory overload, and Kiyoomi could only do so much to keep himself together.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 157





	maladapt and misfire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kagehinabokeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagehinabokeh/gifts).



> As always, for Ri, who wakes up Sakuatsu in my brain every day. Thank you for sharing an unhinged joy with me. :D

For all his sense of order and focus, Sakusa Kiyoomi was secretly an absolute mess for Miya Atsumu.

His brain just always seemed to short-circuit even when merely attempting to acknowledge Atsumu’s existence. It didn’t help that they both played for MSBY Black Jackals, which meant spending lots of time together on and off the court, and thus Kiyoomi’s poor brain malfunctioned at least ten times on a daily basis. Atsumu gave him sensory overload, and Kiyoomi could only do so much to keep himself together.

He remembered the first time Atsumu laughed at something he said: It was like sunshine breaking through the clouds after the fierce dark of a storm, suffusing the sky with a brilliance that Kiyoomi had only ever seen in artworks, vivid but almost watercolor soft. He spaced out for a good minute or two before Meian asked him a question and waved a hand in front of Kiyoomi’s face.

When the team attended a gala last year and they all had to get dressed up fancy, Atsumu arrived in a perfectly tailored suit that showcased the glorious results of years of volleyball on an amazingly fit human being. Kiyoomi could barely remember to breathe (do you exhale before you inhale, or is it okay if you don’t do anything?) when Atsumu turned to him, gave him a once-over, and flashed him a smile that looked conspiratorial and mysterious at the same time, like he was seeing something Kiyoomi should but couldn’t perceive. “Looking good, Omi-Omi! The world better watch out!”

Just four months ago, Kiyoomi literally tripped and fell right in front of Atsumu because Kiyoomi didn’t see a standard-sized duffel bag lying on the floor of the locker room. He was enthralled by the sound of Atsumu’s laughter again as the setter spoke with someone on the phone, his eyes fixed on the curve of Atsumu’s smile. He wasn’t quite sure whether to be grateful or to curse Atsumu’s lightning reflexes, but he caught Kiyoomi easily, Atsumu’s arms bracing around him, Atsumu’s chest holding him steady. “Are you okay, Omi-kun?” Being that close meant Kiyoomi could see his own face reflected in Atsumu’s golden-brown eyes, as well as the surprised amusement and concern all over Atsumu’s face. All the words died in Kiyoomi’s throat as he forgot how any sort of movement could even be done. “Hey, Omi, did you get hurt?” The serious tone of Atsumu’s voice and the way he started to carefully look Kiyoomi over for any injuries snapped sense back into Sakusa.

“I’m fine. Sorry about that.” Kiyoomi righted himself up and pulled away. “Was a little distracted.”

Atsumu made a noncommittal noise, giving Kiyoomi a searching look, ever so brief, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe his words.

Motoya was there when Kiyoomi ran into a glass door; they had been on their way out of the training facility when Atsumu and Bokuto came in, faces animated in conversation, hands waving about. They thankfully had been far away enough to not witness Kiyoomi’s mishap, the side of his face landing with a loud thud against the glass, but Motoya had photographic evidence that he adamantly refused to delete.

When Atsumu asked him out to dinner nine weeks ago (“Finally, a proper date,” Inunaki said later), the first word out of Kiyoomi’s lips was a rather forceful “No!” At no other time in his life did Kiyoomi want the ground to swallow him whole except right then. Atsumu laughed, the sound bright and mesmerizing, then asked Kiyoomi again. He managed to answer correctly this time, but not without some difficulty with getting his mouth to work.

Kiyoomi wasn’t very skilled in the kitchen; cooking was Atsumu’s area, even though he admitted to not being particularly interested in doing the work, so Kiyoomi didn’t really cook anything for Atsumu when they started occasionally staying over at each other’s apartments. Kiyoomi did start making coffee for Atsumu, though, as he seemed to enjoy a good pick-me-up in the morning. One day, however, Atsumu came out of the bedroom looking soft and cloudy-headed from sleep, and the way he shuffled through the apartment and immediately reached for Sakusa made Kiyoomi’s heart stutter. Kiyoomi leaned into the hug as Atsumu wrapped his arms around Kiyoomi’s torso. Sakusa proceeded to make coffee for Atsumu as they stood like that in Sakusa’s kitchen.

When Atsumu choked on his drink during breakfast, Kiyoomi moved quickly, taking the mug from Atsumu’s hand and setting it down on the table as Atsumu coughed almost violently and gasped. “What happened, are you all right?” Kiyoomi asked, rather panicked, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

Atsumu wheezed a little, nodding toward the coffee mug. “Salt.”

“What?” Kiyoomi asked again before handing Atsumu the water.

Atsumu took a long drink from the bottle, exhaling loudly after. “Salty coffee,” he finally managed to say.

Kiyoomi could feel his blood rush to his face, his cheeks suddenly extremely hot. “Shit, I’m sorry!” Absolutely mortified, he took the offensive coffee and poured it down the sink. “I’m so sorry!” He couldn’t even look at Atsumu. “I’ll never make you coffee again.”

Atsumu responded with a laugh, lovely in its delight. He stood up and walked over to the sink where Kiyoomi was wringing his hands. “What are you talking about?” Atsumu came over and pulled Kiyoomi close. “Most effective way to wake up, actually. I feel like I can run a marathon right now.” He grinned, pressing a small kiss against Kiyoomi’s jaw.

When Kiyoomi just buried his face against Atsumu’s shoulder, Atsumu laughed again, tender, indulgent, fond. “Please keep making me coffee, Omi-Omi. I don’t mind the occasional surprise, I promise.”

Kiyoomi relaxed against Atsumu, and Atsumu just held him tighter, as if gathering him together, holding him in place. And it made absolute perfect sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on Twitter @moondreamed! Feel free to say hi to me there! ❤️


End file.
